


we should rip it straight out

by dressedupasmyself



Series: Somewhere Only We Know [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco discovers muggle drinks, Drunken Confessions, Enemies to Friends, Healthy Day Drinking, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/pseuds/dressedupasmyself
Summary: It's the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and maybe Draco isn't the only one who really doesn't want to be there.





	we should rip it straight out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Fake It by Bastille.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYqI_4zhdpA

_And I don’t think that that’s a selfish want, I really don’t_

_I’m not saying that I have this capacity_

_Because it’s hard to develop that capacity on your own_

_When you’re being stopped at every turn._

_***_

Draco had no idea why he even agreed to this. It was obviously a bad idea to show his face at the ceremony intended to remember those who gave their lives a year ago. Nobody wanted to be faced with one of the people responsible for their deaths. And that’s what Draco was, really. Responsible and guilty.

He stood uncomfortably at the edge of the crowd. He recognized most of the faces. The Weasleys were the easiest to identify; their overall orangeness created a halo around them that could be spotted from miles away. Granger was with them, her hair surprisingly tame. Draco wondered what she did to get it that way, and if it would revert back to its bushy self when the night was over.

A group of former Gryffindors had gravitated together just next to the Weasleys. Draco spotted Longbottom with his arm wrapped around a Hufflepuff whose name Draco never bothered to learn. Thomas and Finnigan were with them, along with Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson.

Draco fiddled with the cufflink on his left sleeve. He felt severely out of place, but McGonagall had assured him that since he’d helped to restore Hogwarts, it was only fair that he got to witness the opening ceremony. He disagreed. He helped to restore the school because he had been part of the reason it was destroyed in the first place and it felt like a step toward making up for his mistakes. He was only at the ceremony because his mother had asked him nicely.

Right, his mother. She had promised to stay with him during the whole thing, but now he was alone and she was nowhere to be found. He glanced around and spotted her at the front of the crowd, on the steps that lead up to the front door of the castle. A large purple ribbon was suspended in front of the steps, and she was standing in front of it, listening intently to something Potter was saying to her.

Draco’s breath caught in his chest. He had known that Potter would be here. Of course he would. And it’s not like it was the first time Draco saw him after the mess that was his trial; they’d both helped with the restorations. Still it felt like Draco’s blood ran cold. He’d apologised to all of Potter’s friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to write the letter to his former nemesis. It felt like he owed Potter more than a sorry-note.

Potter glanced up and met Draco’s eyes. He seemed to falter in his speech for a second, but then he pulled himself together and turned his attention back to Draco’s mum.

A soft hand on Draco’s shoulder made him turn his attention away from the whispering pair. Luna smiled at him. She was dressed in bright magenta robes and barefoot.

“Hi, Draco. You looked a bit lonely, so I thought I would save you a seat next to me,” she pointed towards the last row of seats, where a man with shock-white hair that Draco instantly recognised as Xenophilius Lovegood was already seated. Luna leaned in close to him. “It feels a bit like spring, doesn’t it? I always love seeing the new flowers bloom.” She grinned at him.

As they took their seats, Draco noticed a few people glance his way. Granger shot him a tentative smile, but Weasley studiously ignored him. His mother made her way over to him. Although Luna was fiddling with one of her radish earrings, Narcissa didn’t mention Draco’s choice in companions.

“What did Potter have to say, then?” Draco asked. He was surprised by the slight bitterness in his tone. He cleared his throat.

His mum sent him a cold glance. “He wanted to enquire after our wellbeing. Though apparently your apology had gotten lost in the post network, since he hadn’t received anything from you?”

Draco suddenly found a keen interest in his nails. They sat in silence until eventually, Kingsley stepped forward and the crowd quieted down.

Draco didn’t hear much of Kingsley’s speech. He was preoccupied with watching Potter, who was paying extreme attention to the ground under his feet, frowning slightly. He looked better than Draco had seen him in a long time. Draco guessed that a year of nobody trying to murder him did wonders for his appetite. His cheeks were no longer hollow, and his hair had grown out to brush his shoulders. His robes fit him like a glove, accentuating the bulge of his arms. Draco recognized it as a side effect of building up the school, brick after brick. The magical signature around Hogwarts had been severely unbalanced after the battle, so most of the rebuilding had to be done by hand. The delicate charms were then put together piece by piece under Flitwick’s guidance.

A round of applause made Draco blink and look back at Kingsley, who seemed to have just announced Potter, who stepped up with a strained smile.

“Right,” he said, glancing out over the crowd. “Welcome everyone, and thank you for being here today.” He glanced down at his hands.

“I don’t really know what to say, if I’m being honest with you. It’s been a year since Voldemort died, but I don’t think that we can consider that the end of the war. This past year has been a constant battle for most of us. We had to fight past the memories of those we lost so we can honour their sacrifice in moving forward. We had to fight for forgiveness, for others as well as ourselves. And lastly, we had to fight to build Hogwarts back up to the magical place it used to be, so our children and grandchildren can experience the joy of the castle as we all did. I want to thank every single one of the volunteers who worked through rain and snow and scorching heat to restore what we’d lost. If you weren’t here, I would still be trying to figure out why the bricks won’t stay on top of each other.”

The crowd chuckled weakly, and this seemed to spur Potter on slightly, because he actually looked up at the crowd.

“This new year is the beginning of the end of the war that started before I was even born. I am not foolish enough to believe that Wizard kind will never disagree over anything again, but I might be naïve enough to hope that we do try to learn from previous mistakes, and try to be better human beings than we used to be.

“It is now my privilege to ask Headmistress McGonagall to cut the ribbon and declare Hogwarts open once more.”

Draco didn’t pay attention to anything that happened after that, because Potter’s frown was back, even though he had every reason to be happy. Draco wanted so badly to ask him what was wrong. He wanted to ask why he wasn’t proud of the speech he just gave. He held himself back on the premise that he couldn’t be entirely sure that Potter wouldn’t curse him if he tried.

Draco clapped along when McGonagall cut the ribbon. He noticed Potter shake Kingsley’s hand, and he was smiling but it didn’t reach his eyes. He hugged McGonagall, and then he was walking towards Draco.

Draco tried to subtly wipe his sweaty palms on his robes as his heart rate sped up. He didn’t know why Potter would want to talk to him. He had nothing to say to the Boy-Who-Lived, even though every inch of him seemed to gravitate towards the guy like he was being summoned.

Potter stopped to talk to Weasley and – Oh. Draco had forgotten that all of potter’s friends were sitting in the row in front of him. He didn’t want to talk to Draco, after all. Draco didn’t spend too much time contemplating the disappointment that filled his chest; instead he turned to his cousin.

“What are your plans for this year?” he asked, and Luna grinned. He listened as she rambled excitedly about plants and the Quibbler and the new house she was about to move into. It was a relief for him to focus on someone else for a while, instead of having to reply to questions that he really did not know the answer to.

Luna eventually excused herself to talk to Longbottom, leaving Draco with his mother once again. She watched him with an intrigued frown for a minute or so, before heaving an exasperated sigh.

“We are not leaving today until you talk to Potter. I’m tired of you moping around all day, obviously guilt ridden. You can do it willingly, or I can hold your hand like a child, but it’s happening today.”

Draco searched his mother’s eyes for some sign that he might be able to sway her, but she remained firm and unwavering. He gave up and glanced around. He could really use a drink right now. Maybe Blaise would take him to the pub if he asked nicely.

Potter was at the edge of his circle of friends. Weasley and Granger seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion, Neville was listening to Luna and the rest were hanging onto every word Ginny Weasley uttered. Potter seemed to not be paying attention to any of them, and he met Draco’s gaze without any effort. Draco smiled tentatively, which Potter returned, albeit warily.

Draco turned to his mother, who just nodded encouragingly, still maintaining that stern expression. Draco sucked in a deep breath, and then made his way over to the group.

“Potter?” he fiddled with his cuff again. Draco noticed, and chastised himself for the habit.

Potter turned around. He didn’t seem as angry as he used to be. Instead, Draco saw nothing but tiredness. He’d really expected Potter to be a lot happier. Perhaps the day was bringing back too many memories. Draco could understand that.

“May I have a word?”

Potter glanced back at Granger, who shrugged at him, then turned back to Draco. “Sure, Malfoy. But you have to get me away from here first.”

Draco could swear he heard a touch of desperation in Potter’s tone. He frowned in confusion and met Granger’s gaze over Potter’s shoulder. She shrugged again and shot a concerned glance at her friend. Draco raised an eyebrow, as if to ask permission, and she shrugged once again, but didn’t seem opposed to whatever Draco was asking. Draco didn’t even know what that was himself.

 “Aren’t you an important part of the ceremony?” Draco finally asked.

Potter clenched his jaw. “I gave my speech. They will survive without me. If you’re not coming with me I’ll leave on my own, but either way, I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Draco nodded and held out his arm. Thank fuck for the faulty anti-apparition wards, as Draco was able to apparate them away without much fuss.

“Where are we?” Potter asked. He didn’t seem scared or angry at having just been essentially kidnapped by a former Death Eater, which Draco appreciated.

“The apparition point in Wiltshire. There’s a muggle pub not far from here that serves these fascinating purple shots that I hadn’t known about before I got banned from most wizarding establishments.” Draco started to walk, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his deep blue robes. “Would you care to try one?”

           

 

Harry had not been surprised to notice that the pub Malfoy had taken a liking to was inherently fancier than any establishment he liked to frequent. The Dark Horse was only about halfway full, which Harry guessed made sense for noon on a Sunday. The dark burgundy sofas held a couple of people who seemed to be chatting amiably, sharing a plate of chips and some pints. Harry followed Draco to the empty bar, where they both took a seat.

Harry took another look at his surroundings and grinned. He didn’t know if it was because of the horrible speech he just gave, or the utterly predictable nature of Draco Malfoy, but he suddenly felt a bit giddy. The bartender came over and asked for their orders.

“Two shots of Potency and an Irish Coffee,” Malfoy ordered. He glanced at Harry. “I’ll buy you one drink, then we can address the elephant in the room. Depending on how that discussion pans out, we can either indulge in some healthy day drinking, or you can go home.”

Harry shrugged and took the purple liquid Malfoy offered him. They lifted their glasses, and Malfoy did not break eye contact as he swallowed it down. Never one to back down from such an obvious challenge, Harry followed shortly after. The booze burned its way down his throat, but it tasted like somebody intended for it to have a fruity flavour. Whether they succeeded, Harry wasn’t sure.

“Right,” Malfoy said and turned his entire body to face Harry. “I want to apologise for some of my previous choices. I’m sorry for breaking your nose that time in sixth year. I’m sorry for almost getting Hagrid fired in third year, just because he was your friend. I’m sorry for almost torturing you that time in the bathroom. I’m sorry for spreading that rumour that you had pubic lice back in fifth year so none of the girls would want to date you.”

Harry raised a single eyebrow, but let Malfoy continue.

“There are also some things I refuse to apologise for. I’m not sorry for taking the mark to protect my mother. I’m not sorry for the actions of any of my family members, because those are not my actions to apologise for. I’m not sorry for those badges I made in fourth year. I believe they’re still one of my greatest accomplishments to this day. Also, I’m not sorry for all those drawings of you I did and put up around the Slytherin common room for people to laugh at. They might very well be masterpieces waiting to be framed.” Malfoy swallowed and looked away.

“I get that apologies are necessary, and believe me, I’ve done my share of them in the past year. They don’t mean as much to me as proving that I’m worth being forgiven. That’s something I do every single day, because hopefully I’ll go to bed one night and I’ll believe it myself.” He cleared his throat, and there was the eye contact again. “That’s all I have to say on the subject, so you can either stay or go. It’s your choice.”

Harry hummed, then nodded, and then flagged down the bartender. He needed to get drunk right this minute.

 

 

“Everyone is constantly talking about turning a new page in my life and moving on,” Potter slurred. Draco watched him with rapt attention, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger. “And I want to do that! I want to forget about the war and fucking Voldemort and having to fight for my life every day for seven years.”

“So why don’t you? What’s stopping you?” Draco asked.

“What makes you think something’s stopping me?” Potter asked, suddenly defensive.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please, Potter. That sentence so obviously has a big ‘but’ attached to the end of it.”

Potter seemed to slump in defeat. “It’s like – with Ron and Hermione, and even Ginny – they assume that they know what I want from my life. It’s like they’ve already planned it all out without consulting me, and I’m not sure if I want what they do anymore. I’m sure I thought I did, once, but that was when I still thought I would die before I turned eighteen and these future plans were just vague dreams that would never become reality.”

Draco knew all about having expectations dumped on your shoulders. “What are those plans? Marrying the she-ginger?”

Potter sipped at his drink. “I guess. It would just make sense, and Mrs. Weasley has just about planned out the wedding. Also, Ron wants me to start Auror training with him, starting September. They’ve pardoned our lack of NEWTs, so we don’t even have to finish our final year at Hogwarts.”

It all made sense to Draco, too. Of course Potter would become a dark wizard catcher, he’s been doing that his entire life, and he’s obviously extremely powerful. “What’s stopping you?” Draco repeated. “That sounds like a decent life. A pretty stable career. A wife you actually get along with, some kids that you can spoil rotten.”

Potter frowned. “I’m just not sure that I want to be around the worst of humanity for the rest of my life, you know? Cleaning up after murders, getting attacked for doing my job. That sounds like exactly the thing my friends are encouraging me to leave behind, but how am I supposed to do that if I continue to put myself into dangerous situations?”

“So you don’t want to be an Auror. Do you have a different career in mind?”

Potter scrunched up his face, and Draco was overwhelmed with how long he had wished for this, to have a decent conversation with Potter where it didn’t end in a fight.

“I have no idea. I’m still getting used to the possibility of maybe growing old, I’ve hardly had the opportunity to decide how I want to spend all of this extra time I suddenly have.”

“And getting married? Kids? Surely you’ve thought about that?” Draco unquestionably had. If he could pick a future that was the opposite of his father’s idea of what it should be, he would.

Potter ran a hand through his messy curls and tugged. It was nearly brushing his shoulders by now, which made the waves seem less atrocious than Draco remembered. “I would like to have kids, I think. Maybe. Ugh.”

He leaned closer to Draco. “What would I even do with a kid? I have no idea how to raise one; I never had parents to show me how. I’d probably fuck it up so royally that they’ll hate me forever.”

Draco matched the intensity of Potter’s stare. “I had a set of parents, and trust me when I say that they didn’t show me how to raise a kid either. So I get why you’re scared of it. Contrary to what your House has tried to drill into your head, you’re allowed to be scared sometimes and not face that fear head on. You’re allowed to run away from it until you’ve decided on the goal you want to reach. Then, only if that fear stands in the way of that goal do you need to face it.”

Potter blinked. “Is that what they teach you in Slytherin, then?”

Draco shrugged. “What, common sense? They expect us to already have some, unlike some other Houses that I know of.”

Potter elbowed him in the ribs, and then flagged down the bartender. “I think we need to drink to that. What’s the name of that purple drink again?”

When they both had their shots in front of them, Potter faced Draco. “To running away.”

Draco paused his hand where he was about to clink his glass against Potter’s. “To turning a new page.”

Potter grinned. “To ripping out the previous pages and saying ‘fuck it all’.”

Draco chuckled, and they swallowed in sync.

Maybe moving on wouldn’t be as hard as Draco imagined.


End file.
